A visit to the therapist
by Haibara Ai z
Summary: What happens when Kid, Conan, Heiji, Hakuba, and Haibara attend group therapy together? One-shot.
1. Diagnosis

Ms. Dubose leaned back into her leather chair, setting the clip board on her lap. Twiddling her pen, she scrutinized the group of mismatched individuals before her.

_Two children, three conceited teenagers._

The first child was male. His wide cobalt eyes were framed by reflective lenses; his rigid suit adorned with an oversized scarlet bow. He almost seemed to be emphasizing his childish innocence, peering around the room with insatiable curiosity.

The other was a girl, auburn hair surrounding her face. She tucked her hands into her loose hoodie, indifferent, setting an impalpable wall between her and everyone else. No one but the boy dared to approach her. The others either ignored her, or turned away frightened when they met her glare.

The most nonchalant teenager was a brown-haired European. His arm constantly shot up, his eyes pinpointing his watch's location instantly- _checking the time. _Murmuring something, a look of disdain would return to his face and he would flick his cap down.

She didn't blame him. The pair left was an odd one. A dark-skinned Osakan and a boy with dishevelled hair- both were fawning over the first child. They ruffled his hair, tugging onto his arms. You would have thought _they_ were the children, not the boy they were tormenting. With an unnerving grin, they chanted: "Kudo! Kudo! Kudo!"

_Is that his name?_

The boy responded with an irritated "oi, oi," a bead of sweat trickling down his face.

_I guess it's time to start, _Ms. Dubose sighed.

"Alright, it's time to introduce ourselves," she orchestrated. The buzz of the fan could be heard now as the chants receded, "you first." Her palm was outstretched towards the first boy.

He cleared his throat.

"My name is Conan Edogawa," he introduced himself without hesitation, "a detective."

_Then Kudo must be his nickname, _Ms. Dubose reasoned.

She put on a plastic smile and humoured him: "you're a _detective, _boy? How nice!"

Conan sighed. Of course she wouldn't take him seriously.

"7," he articulated simply.

The therapist tilted her head. _What's this…?_

"That's my age. But that's your child's also," he said with a juvenile ring.

The two immature teenagers snickered knowingly. Even the calmer ones managed a mischievous smile.

"You may not have realized it, but some of your child's chalk rubbed off on you. It's faint, but I can recognize the Kanjis: person, elementary school. He wanted to write about himself going to elementary school, but hadn't learned the Kanji 'go to' yet, or the kanjis for 'boy' or 'girl.' I would know, we're learning from the same program- I'm at the same point at school."

_WH-what?_

"Ya Kudo!" the dark-skinned teenager cheered, "But I could do ten times better than ya," he teased him incessantly.

"Are you kidding me? I'm so much better than you," he retorted with wounded pride.

_Who are these people? They're definitely not ordinary; _Ms. Dubose's features were still slightly twisted from the shock.

Painfully, she slipped her mask back on: "Very well done!

When she would look back at the back of her skirt later, she would notice the dim characters which had been transferred there. Very dim. She would never have noticed them had they not been pointed out.

"Dat's right, just like me," the Osakan snickered once more.

"Don't you tease my Tantei-san," the other fool admonished him, shielding the boy protectively.

"Oi, oi," Conan protested again.

Ms. Dubose cleared her throat: "Settle down. We're moving on to the next one. H… Haibara?" she glanced down at her board before pronouncing it more assuredly.

The girl looked up.

"What is it," she said sharply. Her eyes pierced through Ms. Dubose, as if she was nothing more than a specimen to examine.

The therapist felt like shuddering, but retained herself.

"Would you tell us a bit about yourself?"

"Me?" she grew grave, "My parents are dead."

Ms. Dubose paused, but couldn't help thinking: _finally, some familiar territory._

"And how do you feel about that?" she recited by heart.

"Sorrowful," Haibara conceded, but before the therapist could say anything, she continued, "but it's better for them than when they were alive. They were forced, tormented by an indestructible force, one which even today we hope to destroy. We hope to shatter the chains which hold so many people… but my parents had found a way to do it themselves. It is better to be _dead _than remain in their clutches."

_Never mind. _Ms. Dubose realized.

Haibara's voice became venomous: "they killed a bird. She was free, but she tried to help me. For this, she was taken from me also- the only hope, the only wings I possessed were clipped. I could only fall."

The silence in the room was deafening. Even the fans had stopped blowing.

Ms. Dubose did not know what to say: "Your vocabulary is… um, extensive young lady."

Haibara's glare penetrated her, burning into her flesh: "that's all you have to say?"

The therapist stopped turning her pen and adjusted her glasses. Her gaze wavered momentarily.

"Ah, no, I… I'm sorry for your loss," she recovered.

"But," she added with a forceful smile and a visible scan of the room, "We can help you overcome it, right?"

"The only way that would ever happen is if…" Haibara commented, her intense stare finally dissipating, "… no, never mind."

"What is it, Haibara? We're all here to share. Sharing can help us get rid of the things burdening us," another smile raised to the occasion.

Conan dropped in: "the organisation was destroyed, right?" he acknowledged with a slight nod.

No traces of amusement on the congregation's faces remained. Even the two harlequins sat solemnly… _knowingly. _Once more, they all knew something Ms. Dubose didn't.

"Tell me, what is this organisation you are talking about?" she inquired innocuously.

Grinning, the child explained: "it's just an imaginary organisation that we invented. It's a story!"

He had _changed _again. Sometimes he seemed mature, but in an instant, he became the opposite.

_Disillusionment, _she noted, _and split personalities._

What a complicated child.

Ms. Dubose raised her pen from the page, halting the ink flow. Beaming, she turned to the first teenager. The only one she didn't mind dealing with right now.

"And who are you?" she asked the European teenager.

He looked up: "Oh, pardon me, my name is Hakuba. Also a detective."

"Another one, well. We have quite the group today!" Ms. Dubose complimented them. She was expecting positive response… but still…

She was not expecting one of her patients to turn towards her and take her hand gallantly.

"We are unique, but you also are one-in-a-million Ms. Therapist," he whispered as if telling her a secret.

His hands clasped hers tightly, an expression of mirth on his face. He tipped it gently towards her, his eyes fluttering mistily.

_There's a word for this guy…_

"You are so intelligent."

_I can't quite discern it…_

"And very cute too."

_He's…_

"That's it!" she ejaculated, in a moment of epiphany, "a philanderer!"

He was knocked away immediately; the roar of his friend's following him.

"Hah! Ya got him there," the Osakan said between fits of laughter.

Hakuba snorted. Haibara even chocked what you could call a giggle. Conan and the other abandoned themselves to the hilarity of the situation.

"T-this is not funny Tantei-san," the one who had tried to woo her told the child beseechingly, "that hurt…"

"That- that's the first time you've been knocked like _that!"_ he chortled.

_Is this… ok? Do these people really need therapy?_

Sometimes, they seemed so _normal_…

"Well then, what is your name?" she asked the philanderer.

Dusting his shirt, he addressed her: "Kuroba Kaitou. I am _not_-" he coughed "-a philanderer."

"Anything to say about yourself?" she asked, tentatively.

Her fingers wrung themselves around her pencil. What would this boy say?

"I hate fish. I can't stand it."

The look of disgust on his face was unmistakably real.

The therapist's eyes flickered open. _W-what?_

Conan and Hakuba snickered. Heiji blinked.

"He also has a tendency to steal. Kleptomania you would call it," the girl informed, as unmoving as ever, "almost every week, without fail, he has stolen something new; something which he returns every time. Therefore, it is not for economic gain, but rather for the thrill of the snatch."

Kaitou protested vehemently.

"Ah, yes," the therapist nodded. _This girl…_

"Therapists just love to have a name for everything, don't they? I bet you've diagnosed me with post-traumatic disorder already."

_She's staring again, _Ms. Dubose noticed, averting her gaze.

"It's important to categorize our conditions. Of course, everything is adapted on a case-to-case basis," the therapist explained pleasantly.

Haibara responded: "If you have post-traumatic stress disorder, the symptoms will not recede. In fact, you may start to feel worse. Yes, exactly. I do not require your assistance. I have learned to live already- from someone much more qualified than you," she said these words softly, but she was adamant.

"We'll-"

"We'll see?' We are no more than numbers to you, Ms. Dubose. Now," she came to a stand, "may I excuse myself? I have other things to do."

The therapist attempted to retain her, but Conan's cry reached her first: "Oi, Haibara!" he reached out to her, grabbing her arm, "my mom wants us to attend one session. Just, please. Stay for now."

Defiant at first, her expression softened. She sighed and sat down.

"Don't think I'll do more for you, Kudo." Her eyes shot daggers at the boy.

He chuckled nervously, but granted: "good enough for me!"

The therapist fixed her glasses. Without lifting her eyes from the paper, she asked the last person: "and you are…?"

"Heiji! My father's the chief of the Osakan police force, and I'm da best detective outta all of these wannabes," he taunted the others.

"Ya right," Conan rolled his eyes.

"2 o'clock, 34 min, 52 seconds. A detective brags and utterly fails to impress," Hakuba stated.

Heiji shook with anger.

The therapist felt obliged to step in: "Heiji, we must learn how to control our emotions. Just count to…"

"I DON'T WANNA COUNT LADY! DIS GUY'S INSULTED MY OSAKAN PRIDE! FROM NOW ON, YOU'RE MY RIVAL TOO, HAKUBA," his shouts rang across the room.

"H-Hakuba… I thought I was your rival," Kaitou looked up at him mournfully.

"I deny your request for rivalry," he agreed, with a nod to Heiji.

"Yay! We're rivals for life Hakuba!" Kuroba exclaimed, leaping onto his friend. He was thrown to the ground by Heiji- he himself yelling uncontrollably.

"Children…" the therapist raised her voice in an attempt to calm them, "children!"

Brusquely, Kaitou disappeared in a puff of smoke. It cleared. Heiji gasped- he clutched a bouquet of flowers instead of the thief's arm.

The owner laughed from another corner of the room: "That's my consolation present."

"Get back here, you thief!" his attacker said, rummaging through the corners of the room.

"Everyone, settle down," Ms. Dubose attempted to tell them.

"Oi, Heiji," Conan called him, "he's just using a button speaker to transmit his voice across the room. In fact, he has probably already left."

"Right!"

A few minutes passed, the whole group sitting in silence. _I guess it'll be easier with only these three, _she pondered. But as she opened her mouth to speak, Kaitou was dragged back in the dim room, kicking and screaming.

Heiji declared: "He tried a few tricks on the way. Dummies exploding into flowers were the worst."

He picked out several colorful fragments from his hair.

"Hum, 2 0'clock, 47 min, 20 sec. 12 min, and 40 sec, to Kid's stated time. I see," Hakuba informed them systematically.

"Ya…" Kaitou responded, hanging his head droopily, "Heiji, you cruel thing," he whined.

"CHILDREN," the therapist pushed herself from her chair.

All heads turned her way. Guilty pouts, vexed scowls. She sat back down, folding her hands over her lap.

"Now," she said, picking up her pen, "I'm going to tell you what is wrong with you."

Ms. Dubose pointed towards Conan: "You are suffering from bi-polar personalities, probably resulting from your prodigious intelligence. You are unbalanced, switching perpetually between maturity and childish delusion."

Conan blinked: "WH-what?" His jaw hung open. _This is ridiculous, _he thought.

"Yes, you will learn how to deal with these ambiguous forces within yourself. Don't worry," she reassured him, "Now, Haibara. I believe you are also deluding yourself. Your post-traumatic disorder is not improving; you are simply convincing yourself that it is so."

Haibara snorted: "There is nothing you can do for me. Give up."

The therapist answered gracefully: "We will learn to get along," she put on a fake-sincere smile.

She continued without faltering: "Hakuba, you are OCD, obsessed with checking the time. Perhaps this is due to insecurity; you want to know exactly where you are at, at all times. Now, don't interrupt me- denial is not healthy."

The detective sighed and covered his face with his cap: "Whatever."

"Kaitou, you are indeed a kleptomaniac. You also suffer from ichthyophobia- the fear of fish. For that, we'll try cognitive behavioral therapy, ok?"

Kaitou was too busy flinging flowers on a glowering Hakuba. She sighed.

"Heiji…"

The detective looked away.

She was unrelenting: "You seem to have an inferiority complex."

"INFERIORITY COMPLEX, WHAT THE HECK?" he exclaimed, astounded.

"Yes, your self-praise shows your lack of self-esteem. Your father has probably done a lot of great things, and you feel…" she dared, "… insufficient."

"But I AM da best detective! The East beats those Tokyoites any day," he grew defensive.

"I am sure you have a lot of pride for your city… it doesn't mean you have to put down every one else in an attempt to feel better."

"Hehe, you heard that Heiji?" Conan snickered.

He shot up from his seat, challenging the child to a detective battle. Heiji seemed to treat him as an equal, not bothering to remark that his playmate was ten years younger.

"Also," she addressed Kaitou and the dark-skinned detective, "I think you should find friends of your own age."

They stilled, dumbfounded: "B-but he's…"

Conan smirked.

"Oh never mind…"

"Well, I'll see you next session then," she said, dismissing them.

* * *

Leaving the room, the therapist peeked back. _They're probably not coming again._ This should have been good news, but despite their quirks, they were an amusing group indeed.

The smile on her face disappeared when she looked down.

Slamming the door open, she called: "Kaitou! Pick up those flowers and your confetti," she glanced downwards once more, "and while you're at it, UNTIE MY EMPLOYEES."

Kaitou grinned impishly: "Yes ma'm!"

* * *

**** if I happen to receive a lot of feedback, I will post a sequel ****


	2. Treatment

_**Thank you Verity 58, Detective Lion, Fluehatraya, knownangel, roxifoxi, Loki Hatter, Kuriputt, M, and MeikoKuran999 for your feedback. Thank you to Cincuenta Cuentos, FinalXFantasy91, Gratia Puella, LacNyssa, The Masked Idiot, and jB Watanabe for your favourites. Here is your reward :)** _

_Session #2, 13/7/13- Exposure therapy_

_Finally. My break time. _Ms. Dubose wandered to her room, ready to enjoy her vanilla Frappuccino. She clutched the handle and inched the door open.

Woe and behold! Her room was not empty after all.

"Hello Dubose-sensei!" Kuroba Kaito was on her case again. A grunt was heard from all the other creatures present.

Ms. Dubose tensed, closing the door behind her: "It's nice to see… you all today."

"It seems you were keen on taking a break here," the boy she knew as Conan noted sharply, "your hair is undone and you are in possession of a vanilla Frappuccino which you would never drink in front of your clients to avoid showing them disrespect. You are a professional woman, Ms. Dubose. You did not want guests here, did you?"

_This… _this boy was acting strangely mature again, feeling the need to show off his intellect.

Just when the therapist was going to speak, Conan then exclaimed: "Sorry to intrude Therapist-san!"

Her eyebrow shot up. _His disorder must be treated immediately. It will impair him significantly if this continues._

Conan sneered. Although he had been dragged into this by his friends, he might actually enjoy this.

A few hours earlier…

_ "Yo Kudo! I've got a plan," Heiji said gleefully._

_"This is going to involve the therapist, isn't it?" Conan sighed, exasperated. His gaze met Haibara's as he pleaded silently for her assistance._

_She intervened, but not the way he thought she would: "My life does not constitute solely of scientific research. I find the therapist's stupidity an amusing diversion; someone who does not know of our true conditions, but attempts to help us by categorising our reactions to our situation. She is the only thing we can tinker with amongst the chaos and unruliness of real life."_

_Conan was dumbfounded: "So… you want to manipulate her."_

_The assembly nodded collectively._

_"This could be fun," Hakuba shrugged._

_"Hakuba-kun just wants to get back at her for calling his "precise timing" OCD," Kaitou smirked, glancing in his direction. The detective glowered._

_But Conan, upon hearing his words, reminisced involuntarily about her diagnosis... 'Preposterous!' he shook his head, irritated._

_"I'm in," the boy conceded, a new spark of determination in his eyes._

And here he was, watching her recoil at his exaggerated "split personality disorder"

* * *

Ms. Dubose was not sure what to think.

Each of these people seemed to have worsened considerably overnight. Kaitou was now picking paper clips of her desk, shoving them in his pockets; Heiji was screaming "fun facts" about "wonderful Osaka"; Conan was switching madly between his two personalities;

And Hakuba…

Hakuba had dragged in a _giant _clock.

He seated himself on top of the huge machine, counting the hours, the minutes, and every singly second ticking by.

"2 o'clock, 32 min, 03 seconds, 2 o'clock 32 min, 04 seconds, 2 o'clock, 32 min, 05 seconds…"

And then came the time that Kaitou was weary of stealing trivial stationary and decided a giant clock would make a nice addition to his collection…

That didn't work out well.

The therapist scrambled to get her things together. Thankfully, she had had the good sense to conserve the documents on these particular patients, allowing her to pick up where she left off.

"Ah… ha," her finger slid down the paper until she found their diagnoses, "we'll start this session with some exposure therapy…"

Kaitou suddenly looked a lot paler.

"As in exposure… you mean…?"

Conan grinned sardonically: "Exposure therapy is a technique in behavior therapy intended to treat anxiety disorders. It involves the exposure of the patient to the subject of their dread."

The thief gulped slightly: _maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all…_

"First, we'll try something really simple, alright? I need everyone to listen and participate in the activity," the therapist announced, setting her clipboard on the side. No one complied.

Cocking her eyebrows slightly, but never relenting, she elaborated: "Everyone will imagine a scene in which they are confronted with what they are most afraid of. Alright?"

Conan sighed. _This is silly. I am not afraid of anything…_

"Are you all ready? Let's start."

He closed his eyes and tried to think of something. Anything at this point.

_Something came._

_A man? _

_Kogouro appeared in front of him, dressed in a tuxedo and armed with a magnifying glass._

_'I guess that guy is scary enough'_

_Conan reached for his watch, but his fingers met nothing._

_'Hmmm, curious'_

_He was letting his thoughts wander after all. He wasn't surprised that his subconscious had taken control of the situation._

_'Whatever.'_

_Kogouro stepped into the middle of the room, a few people gathered around him. One of them had glazed eyes- the corpse. It was submerged underwater in a bathtub._

_"I will now uncover the culprit! The culprit is….YOU!" Conan followed his index's trajectory. It landed on a woman._

_The detective deliberated: "You are actually a mermaid! You lured your husband into the bathtub with your enticing songs and mermaid powers; this lead to his death by drowning."_

_'What a fool…' the little boy facepalmed._

_"It's true! How did you know!?" the woman shrieked. Scales covered her skin and she flopped like a fish._

_'This is completely illogical! What the…'_

_"MY AMAZING DETECTIVE INSTINCTS! FUFUFUFUFU!" Kogouro burst into a fit of laughter, his face reddening pompously. _

_Conan balked: 'NO! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!' _

His eyes snapped open. The little boy seemed to be covered by a thin veneer of sweat…

_Damn my imagination._

Well, now he knew what he what _he _was afraid of.

* * *

Kaitou was astonished to find his dear Tantei-san shaken by such an ordeal. What _was _he scared from?

"Kaitou, we're doing this activity for you. Could you please participate?" the therapist pleaded with a smile. Kaitou quivered slightly; it seemed more like a sneer.

"A-alright."

He too closed his eyes, meeting darkness.

_'Ugh. I'm supposed to be concentrating on fish?'_

_He conjured a silky white outfit which he draped around himself._

_'Well, if I'm going to face my fear, might as well be armed!'_

_Leaning over the top of the building, he stretched out his gem-clutching hand. It gleamed in the moonlight._

_'Something's… inside…"_

_PANDORA! _

_He gazed at it in astonishment._

_This was when the fish decided to appear. Like a flock of birds, they emerged from the city below and targeted Kaitou. There were thousands of them, filling the sky seamlessly._

_'WHAT?'_

_One of the fish yelled: "YOU'VE NEVER HEARD OF FLYING FISH!?"_

_They all converged on top of the frantic Kaito, overwhelming him completely. He could not see his limbs, or his costume- just a dark muddle of scaly flying fish…_

Kaitou surged from his seat, panting._ Gross! _He remarked, _being crushed by those disgusting, slimy creatures_…

"What did you imagine? Can you describe it to me?" Ms. Dubose questioned.

He shuddered: "There were… a lot of fish…"

Hakuba snorted: "Fair enough."

"How about you, Haibara? What occurrence would you fear the most?" she picked up her clipboard and pen once more, ready to etch her every word.

"Do you want to what would happen?" Haibara's gaze penetrated hers, contrasting sharply with the gentle lilt of her voice, "The doorbell rings; I head to the window to ascertain their identity. I call for Agasa but meet only silence- it is day but the dreadful silence of the night accompanies it.

"A sound rips apart this stillness. I plummet forward, soaking in a pool of my own blood as they stand above me, mocking, taunting, their voices hissing about their lethal endeavors. Professor Agasa, Conan Edogawa, Ayumi, Genta, Mitsuhiko, and the Mouris… they killed them all and it is my entire fault."

Ms. Dubose is speechless once more. _She's… seven?_

Glancing back down at her documents, that fact is confirmed.

Haibara spoke again: "I… I… I've already lost so much. I don't want to have to lose my new life either."

The girl burst into tears, wringing her fingers over her eyes.

_Aw, she's just a shaken child who's lost her parents; _Ms. Dubose looked at her compassionately. Her eyes melted; her expression softened. The therapist extended a hand over the weeping child, ready to soothe her.

It never reached.

Haibara's fingers which, previously, had been wiping her eyes were now clasped around Ms. Dubose's arm. Her fabricated tears gleamed, moist eyelashes framing her fervent glare; her voice dripped with cynicism:

"No."

This single syllable resonated poignantly. As a smile drew itself on the girl's face, terror bloomed in the therapist's spirit, the girl's grim amusement like a wisp she could reach out and feel. _Who is she? Is she just toying with me? _A therapist should not be tricked so easily, they were supposed to stay on top, to read the person's emotions effectively… but Ms. Dubose had been manipulated.

By a _seven-_year old.

"Seems you've missed your calling, Haibara," Conan suggested jokingly.

That snapped Ms. Dubose back to reality.

There was nothing to say. She waved the situation away and turned to Kaitou and Heiji.

_She's quick to recover, _Haibara observed.

"What is your greatest fear?" Ms. Dubose asked the two teenagers.

Both raised their arms, pointing at each other accusingly.

The therapist added numbly: "Enlighten me."

Heiji spoke first: "That guy takin' my girl and my rival!"

The little cowlick boy remarked mockingly: "You admit it? Your girl?"

Realizing his mistake, he protested against the implied accusation: "W-wait! Kazuha's just a friend, just a friend I tell ya!"

_Denial. He is definitely infatuated with this Kazuha girl, _Ms. Dubose noted.

"I AM NOT INFATUATED!" he yelled subsequently.

_Oh, I must have said that out loud. _

She had not- it was the child again: "You would not become so agitated about this matter if you felt no attraction whatsoever to her. I believe Ms. Dubose-san would agree that you are in denial," he smirked, his voice becoming childish: "and _denial is not healthy!"_

The dark-skinned teenager slammed his palms onto his ears, shielding them from potential accusations. Trying to drown out the sound of the boy's taunts, he whined: "Shut up, Kudo!"

_You shut up, my neighbors will believe I am incompetent, _the therapist thought, irritated.

But they transferred verbally into: "Could you keep it down please, there are other rooms-"

"Denial!" Conan chanted.

"Yer getting annoying Kudo-kun!"

"Infatuation," he grinned.

Kid piped up: "How about you, Tantei-san? You've fallen for that scary Mouri girl."

"At least I don't suffer from wandering interest like _you_," Conan sneered. _Alright, she can be frightening sometimes..._

Suddenly, it felt as if their positions had been reversed. The taunting from the last session was now coming from the child instead of the two teenagers; these people were inconsistent, their behaviors and relationships fluctuating constantly.

"How about you Hakuba?" Kaitou asked with a cheeky smile, "Don't tell me you're frightened to lose KID to that idiot."

"WHO ARE YA CALLING AN IDIOT YA FLOWER THROWING PHILANDERER?"

"Keep it down!" Ms. Dubose yelped, agitated.

She was ignored. Again.

"I would find it quite troublesome if I were to lose any of my rivals to someone like that_,"_ the blonde admitted, leaning backwards on his giant clock.

"Like that? LIKE THAT?" Heiji fumed, indignant, "DA PEOPLE OF OSAKA ARE MORE WARM, OPEN, AND GENEROUS DAN YA TOKYOITES COULD EVER BE!"

"..."

A moment of silence. A roll of the eyes.

Then Hakuba coughed:

"I'm European."

* * *

**Like? Hate? I dislike it... :/ what is your opinion? I am also taking recommendations for a new set of people to send to Ms. Dubose or a new therapist.**


	3. BO Diagnosis

I lied. I was busy last week with camps and extracurricular (Gah, music theory). But this week, I'm free. :3

**Thank you to MihAela-Selene, Loki Hatter, rana 2001, roxifoxi, Meow-chan-15, Hewia, Runa, the most amazing Fluehatraya, Yuu3, Toko Kyotaro, Guest (Hope you'll revisit :)), and Alex Elvan, ILoveFanfiction-AnimeAdik for your reviews. They encouraged me to write this quickly.**

Meow-chan-15 and Fluehatraya suggested Gin and his pals. I thought it was genius! So, here it is:

* * *

_Session#1- 13/7/13- Diagnosis_

Diagnosis-

The next group on the schedule seemed to be as unique. Not only did Ms. Dubose receive the appointment schedule by phone with a voice-distorter and a threatening choice of words, but even their names stood out- all seeming to be types of… alcohol?

_Gin, Vodka, Chianti, Bourbon, and Vermouth._

She tipped her head up. There they were.

The first was a man with a long, bleached mane. A broad-brimmed hat obscured his face, disallowing her from seeing any more than his beak-shaped nose and his overbearing scowl. Like a viper, he sat stoically, a seamless robe falling around him, ready to strike at the slightest disturbance. His cigarette smoldered as he crumpled its end against the ash tray, pulling out another one.

The other man possessed a wide jaw and chiseled features- his eyes shielded by tinted lenses and his forehead shadowed by a matching hat. He seemed less certain of himself, glancing at the other man nervously… as if he was his subordinate hoping to please him.

The first woman sported a peculiar short hairdo- tinted vivid orange. A scowl and a deformed grimace adorned her face, as well as a thick, black eyebrow arched into a menacing frown. Her lashes were also conspicuous. They had been extended with dabs of purple mascara and contrasted well with her somber outfit… the right pocket of which protruded suspiciously.

Vermouth, the last one, was also woman. She wore her silver hair up in a bun, loose curls left tumbling over her shoulders, seeming to possess a certain sense of self-satisfaction. Her smirk never wavered.

Surprisingly, among these frightening people, a bright young teenager was present. With dark skin, blond hair, and the absence of a cowlick- _thank goodness- _he seemed much more cheerful than his companions. He had actually greeted her as she had entered the room. But a certain air of cunning- mischief- emanated from him.

Another thing struck her. Not only were they all black-clad, they were also…

_No, just no._

They were almost like copies of Haibara; their eyes cold and piercing, their expressions cynical- sardonic.

"Geez, they call us out on a mission, sending us to the therapist instead. It's not like we need therapy," the red-head called out obnoxiously.

Vermouth purred: "Are you trying to defy orders, Chianti?"

_Orders? Are they all from the same company, sent here as a group?_

"It seems we're peculiar… even by the organization's standards," the teenager yawned insouciantly.

_Organization? _This reminded her of a conversation she had had before with a little boy. Someone with split-personality disorder… _ah! _Now she remembered. Conan's mature facet had spouted some nonsense about an oppressive organization which he had to destroy.

_Could it be? _

Could it be he's actually talking about a real company? An organization which has mistreated those close to him?

Ms. Dubose smiled. Of course not. It was _nonsense_ after all.

"Good afternoon! We're all going to introduce ourselves, alright?" Ms. Dubose managed to pronounce her welcome enthusiastically.

Five pairs of eyes fixed her. They did not seem in the mood for such affairs.

_Like crows… A murder of crows…_

This was the second time today that the therapist was feeling intimidated. Weak, helpless, _dumb_. The first situation had involved a little girl... now it involved four adults and a teenager.

"Well, might as well get rid of her and get out of here," Chianti sneered, reaching for the bulge in her pocket.

"No. Not now."

The long-haired blonde raised his chin and his cold cerulean eyes were finally revealed. Eyes devoid of everything save ruthlessness, calculation, and contempt. They bore through Ms. Dubose… and she couldn't help but quiver.

"Not now Chianti," his gaze swung sharply towards the woman. It was then that the therapist realized that all the people present possessed a prominent bump in their clothes- one like Chianti's.

_What… what is going on? _Ms. Dubose's eyes widened ever so slightly.

Amusement flitted across Vermouth's face and she leaned further into the couch.

The bald man looked at his partner uncertainly: "So… what do we do now, bro?"

Bourbon interrupted: "Introduce yourself."

He protested: "But-"

"Do as told," Gin pronounced nonchalantly, though with an assertive demeanour.

His subordinate swallowed, turning towards Ms. Dubose: "Vodka."

"Nice to meet you! Could you tell me what spurred your parents to give you such odd names?" the therapist answered with excessive enthusiasm. She was genuinely curious as to why they were all named after alcohol- were they aliases to protect their identities? Did they all form a group like Alcoholics Anonymous?

Gin sighed inwardly. He would be honest. After all, she would no longer be present to divulge their secret when they left… He sneered coldly. She would be perfectly silent.

"Codenames. They are codenames which we use to refer to each other."

His companions seemed startled. Even Vermouth's eyes flickered open momentarily before closing once more, a smile returning to her face. She crossed her arms as if defying him: _Impress me._

Ms. Dubose was completely oblivious to the meaning of his words: "Wow, codenames! You mean you play games together?"

Vermouth's lips curled up into an amused grin: "Yes. A game. One much more severe and momentous than your brain will ever comprehend."

For once, Chianti agreed with her words: "That's right, dumbass."

Ms. Dubose was insulted. _She definitely requires an anger-management program, _she resolved, answering with poise: "Now, now. Swearing is disrespectful."

It was then that the therapist remembered. Upon attending the National Psychology Conference in Dubai, she had been introduced to an activity which she had wanted to test out. _Perhaps..._

"Instead of introducing ourselves normally, let's do something which will allow us to understand ourselves more thoroughly," Ms. Dubose explained, "through the eyes of another."

Their stares became suspicious.

"We will form two groups due to our uneven numbers," the therapist pursued, "In one group, we'll have Chianti and Bourbon. In the other, we'll have Gin, Vodka, and Vermouth, alright?"

A few nodded faintly, the rest shrugged, one of them shooting a particularly scorching glare.

Ms. Dubose bent over to reach a small notepad on her desk. Holding two pieces of paper between her thumb and index, she peeled them off in one smooth, uninterrupted gesture. Handing them out with pencils, she detailed the procedure: "Each team will make a list of what they know about the members of the other team…"

"And please. Be considerate."

Adding this quickly, she folded her hands over her lap with her ever-present pen still lodged between her second and middle finger.

Their lists took a few minutes to complete. Whereas Chianti's group was peppered with malevolent snickers, Vermouth's was completely silent. Again. What an… _interesting_ group of individuals.

Ms. Dubose adjusted her glasses and brought the papers into the dim glower of a lamp. She read them out loud:

"Chianti. She is loud-mouthed, unbearably hot-headed, impatient…"

"Damn you, Vermouth," Chianti snarled, after which a slew of indecent terms ensued.

Inwardly, the therapist snorted. She had guessed that much.

But outwardly, she kept up her façade: "You shouldn't assume that Chianti. As for you," she addressed Vermouth's whole group, "didn't I tell you to be more considerate?"

Sighing, she decided that she would review the rest to avoid redundant provocation.

It continued for a very long time…

_… Unnecessarily flashy, and ugly._

Ms. Dubose shuddered: _Thank goodness she didn't hear that._

She continued to read.

_Her only asset is her skill in sniping. _

_Wait… what?_

The therapist's eyes became increasingly agape: "S- sniping?"

"Ya, I like sniping. Got a problem?" Chianti chewed maliciously.

"You… um, are in the army or the police force?" Ms. Dubose tried to be logical. That's what it meant, right?

Chianti smirked: "Neither."

The therapist frowned: "Then you must hunt for a hobby."

"She hunts," Vermouth conceded, watching the therapist's features loosen, "for people that is."

"Virtually?" Ms. Dubose became fretful, "As in a video game?"

The red-head shook her head with an unnerving grin creeping onto her face: "Nope."

_What… what does this mean? Who are these people?_

That had been the second time that month she had asked that to herself.

Gin confirmed her fears: "We're killers."

Ms. Dubose stood up. She didn't exactly know why, but there was one thing she was certain of: She did not want to remain in the midst of a room full of psychopathic killers.

"Well, I'm also a detective," Bourbon added casually.

"I'm an actress in my free time," Vermouth said, waving her perfectly manicured fingers towards Ms. Dubose. They looked _sharp_. Like they could slice open her chest and mutilate her guts.

_"We're killers."_

She couldn't stand it anymore. The therapist swung the door open, and launched herself outside. It swung close again with a bang.

The room was silent once more.

"Shouldn't we go after her?" Vodka asked his partner.

"No." was his answer, clear and concise. But he did not explain why.

Silence. For several minutes, the only notable noise was the smooth whirr of the fans blowing a dusty breeze.

"Umm… bro?" Vodka attempted, seeing the man lift his head towards him, "what did you do? I mean, before you joined the organisation."

Gin's cruel expression seemed to soften momentarily; just for a small moment before hardening again.

He lowered his head: "I majored in arts."

"You wanted to become an artist?" Bourbon and all the others were taken aback. They did not know much of the man's past.

After Vermouth regained her composure, she added: "You still paint, don't you?"

The assembly chuckled softly. _Yes, with blood._

Gin agreed: "I still consider myself an artist."

All of a sudden, the door creaked open again. Heads swivelled to see… a little boy? Yes, a tiny boy with a red bow tie and huge, inquisitive eyes.

_Silver bullet- kun? _Vermouth blinked.

The boy skipped inside with a carefree attitude, calling out: "Komenasai! I forgot something!"

Five eyes scrutinized him carefully- suspiciously, before someone finally answered: "Hey Conan-kun."

Bourbon waved to the boy as he said this.

The boy looked up for the first time. Noticing the occupants, his jaw fell to the ground: "ah… um… hi."

He did not know what amused him more- the fact that he was experiencing such an opportune moment to capture five of the most important members in the organisation, or the fact _the_ black organisation was at the therapist.

He pressed a hand against his mouth, stifling a giggle.

"Pffft…" was the sound which escaped.

Raised eyebrows. Silent smirks. Conan stumbled outside, still laughing, forgetting to retrieve whatever he came there for. The ray of light from outside thinned and dissipated.

_Thump. _The door closed.

They shrugged, unknowing.

Glancing up from a cellphone, Gin spoke: "I believe we are no longer obliged to get rid of Ms. Dubose."

"Huh?" Vodka inquired.

"It has been accomplished already."

Ms. Dubose was still pressed against the door, eyes darting around frantically.

Hanging on to their every word.

* * *

"What happened to her?" a man asked, sipping on his coffee, "She only lasted two weeks."

The other answered, sliding his mug onto the desk before him: "Dunno. She started screaming about how there were assassins in her room."

"What?" he peered sideways.

"There was no one in her room. And no appointment for anyone either," he shrugged, "they sent her to an asylum."

"Tough job, huh?" he yawned.

The other nodded: "Tough job."

* * *

The report was filed to Anakota the next day.

_Vodka: Low self-esteem and inferiority complex to Gin. He feels he must rely on him for everything, never making a decision for himself. To learn the value of his own abilities, he should be praised regularly._

_Chianti: Anger management issues. She is very sensible to put downs from other people, especially her peers. Although she may act though, she just wants to belong._

_Vermouth: Perfectionism. She expects everyone to perform and act as well as she does and is not afraid to inform them of their shortcomings. Vermouth also prefers to wait and sway events in her direction, often withholding information from those who wish to help her._

_Gin: A cynical sociopath who enjoys manipulating… _

The last part was scribbled frenziedly:

_WHO AM I KIDDING, THEY'RE ALL FREAKING PSYCHOPATHS! _

Anokata's chair swivelled gently. The first part was nonsense… but the last was spot-on.

* * *

**There goes another one.**

**I guess I'll stop when the number of reviews decline.**


	4. Hysteria

I had ample time to finish this. I should have updated sooner… yet… I became addicted to another anime (Nodame Cantabile). Woe and behold, the lazy anime-addict.

**Thank you to Alex Elvan, roxifoxi, ILoveFanfiction-AnimeAdik, Fluehatraya, SJ, terry nightstalker, hai-edogawa (unfortunately, if reviews decline, I'll have to stop :/. There are other ideas and activities I must attend to...), MihAela-Selene, chibi-twan, JuuRokuChan016, DetectivePandaTheif, nightcase, DetectiveLion (woah, lots of animal detectives XD), and Meow-chan-15 for your reviews! The feedback is what keeps me going... like organic fuel, lol. :3 **

As many of you requested, the reaction to Conan's meeting with the B.O:

* * *

Group therapy session #2 epilogue-

_(Warning, extremely short)_

"Come on, Kudo! We deserve to know," a particularly boisterous individual prodded at the young child beside him. They were now riding in Agasa's car on the way to their respective homes.

"Ah, that?" the small boy raised an eyebrow, "I told you I needed to fetch something."

They all eyed him disappointedly. Even Hakuba's inquiring gaze wavered- irritation flashing dimly in his eyes.

Haibara was not satisfied either: "And…?"

Conan smirked and conceded a faint indication: "Perhaps the black organisation isn't as unaware of their mental condition as I had thought…"

The hint was enough for them to deduce the situation correctly. Their jaws dropped. Heiji's eyes widened into saucers- globular and astonished: "Ya mean…"A jumble of protests dissipated as the car ran over a small bump, rattling the vehicle uncomfortably.

"Isn't that therapist dead or near-death by now?" Haibara frowned, her eyes narrowing. Had Conan neglected to offer his protection to someone this time?

Conan shrugged: "She is in no peril. I made sure of it." He had weighed all possible options. He could have called the FBI, but they were not in the range to come in for the capture, nor did they have the legal authority; a therapeutic clinic was decidedly not the place to stage a clash between Red and Black. All he could do was assure her safety.

"I'll pay for her recovery myself," he explained, leaning over to the side window, "hypnosis should wipe the slate clean."

Agasa intervened: "Or I could test my memory-removing earphones!"

The two not children glared: "NO!" Slightly discouraged, he bit his lip and continued to grip the steering wheel. He should have guessed that they would not trust his inventions entirely- especially one dealing with the nervous system: a delicate and intricate framework.

Silence now. Individual pondering, isolated cogitation. Each of their thoughts avoided mingling, drifting noiselessly past each other as they contemplated the meaning of Conan's words.

Then, a soft giggle. It started to swell as Kaitou erupted into a fit of laughter. Heiji joined him, wiping tears out of his eyes: "Da… da bad guys- hahaha- talking about deir problems!?" Realisation had begun to settle in.

Kuroba puffed, his face growing scarlet. Would they talk to Ms. Dubose like they talked to KID?

_"I'M GOING TO GOUGE YOUR UNMOVING EYES OUT, BASTARD!" _

Or would they genuinely convey the troubling nature of their conflict with good?

_"There's this guy. H-he's always taunting me, mocking me. I'm supposed to catch him- me and my comrades in fact- but he always wins. I was never good at much. But while I'm doing the __**one**__ thing I am good at, he… he's able to beat me hands tied. It's unnerving, really. And to make matters worse, I have a boss with no understanding whatsoever. If I fail a job, he literally wants to __**kill **__me."_

_"I understand. These people bash others just to feel better about themselves."_

_"That explains a lot, madam. Thanks."_

_"And try talking to your boss; it may be that he is also insecure himself. Remember that if this continues, you still have to put your happiness and self-actualisation first."_

_"You don't understand, miss. He'll kill me."_

_"Now, now. Don't exaggerate. The worst he can do is fire you... and that might actually leave you in a more advantageous position than before."_

_"But ma'm-"_

_"Here you go, have a nice day."_

Kaitou laughed heartily at the imagined session. Maybe… maybe he would have liked to see that too. If only someone had documented it. Pausing, he snorted. _Impossible_. He would have to ask Conan if he had heard anything from those sociopathic killers.

After all, everything is possible in a world where bad guys attend clinical therapy.

* * *

The next will most likely be couple therapy between Eri and Kogoro… or Shinichi and Ran. Or Heiji and Kazhua. XD We'll see…

****Challenge: I will write a one-shot for a random person who tells me what they liked/disliked and points out legit mistakes in my story. XD It's for the sake of improvement! **


	5. Trust Issues

**Thank you to ILoveFanfiction-AnimeAdik (lol, glad it's alright :)), krikanalo, Airka Yumeko, CasperxDaisyxRa, Emptydarkneification, the elusive M (who's identity I now know :P), Fluehatraya, Yuu3, hai-edogawa, chibi-twan, Meow-Chan-15, and rana2001 for your reviews.**

Thanks for the biological fuel XD

The winner of the raffle was Airka Yumeko. Their request was another therapy session with the protagonists and they didn't mind sharing their prize with all of you, so here it is: (and yes, Ms. Dubose is back just for that while)

I was really busy, so hope I don't disappoint.

* * *

Trust games. That was what she had suggested.

Upon the umpteenth insult Heiji had tossed towards Kaitou, Ms. Dubose finally cracked: "Since you all seem to hold profound distrust for each other, we will strengthen your bond through trust games."

It was the "trust" which got Haibara. It was the "game" which got Kaito. And not in the same way.

"This is a bad idea," Hakuba attempted to tell her. Yes, he could foresee all the opportunities they would have to cause irreparable harm to each other- opportunities they would never fail to use.

Alas, several members seemed to have other ideas. "No, I like it," Kaito grinned eagerly, hands gripping the front of the couch, legs in a triangular fold around him.

"Do tell us what happens when one fails to show his reliability to the so-called partner," Haibara inquired impassably.

Ms. Dubose opened her mouth to speak, but closed it as the girl spoke. The therapist frowned. She should have been able to toss the retort back without delay- the response she had prepared to this kind of argument. But there was something unnerving about the way Haibara saw right through her… and Ms. Dubose felt as if the answer would not make much of a difference to the cold little girl.

"Ah, whatever," Conan shrugged, though his absent flick of the eyes demonstrated his weariness. _Let's get this over with, _it told them clearly.

Relenting slightly, they remained silent just long enough for the therapist to explain the game. "We'll start with a simple activity," Ms. Dubose sifted through her papers crisply, "has anyone heard of the 'fall back' game?"

A few members groaned.

"Trite," Haibara sighed almost inaudibly.

"Where you fall back and let your partner catch you." The therapist confirmed whilst ignoring their faint complaints, "Otherwise known as the 'trust fall,' this game is proven to increase levels of reliance amongst players."

She then proceeded to pair them up by age, leaving Hakuba out for this "round" due to uneven numbers. "One will be the person to fall and the other will position themselves parallel to their partner. You then stretch your arms out -" she made a quick demonstration "- to catch the falling person."

"Me trust him?" Heiji deadpanned, "ya gotta be kidding me. Can't I just catch Kudo or something?"

"Trust," the therapist smiled stoically- like a docile china doll, "is key."

_Creepy, _the Osakan's eyes widened slightly.

"Trust me," Kaitou Kid chanted with a smooth dab of charm, "I won't let you hit the ground."

Heiji paused, his glare softening: "P-promise?"

The thief grinned, bearing his zigzagged teeth prominently: "Promise."

A handshake, then a soft exhale. Heiji crossed his arms over his chest like a mummy, ready to fall on cue. "Ready," he announced.

"…set, go," Kaitou added.

A hint of a smile played on Ms. Dubose's face. She was glad the two had finally gotten along. Perhaps this was really worth doing; she would have to write that down for further sessions-

_BANG_! Her head swiveled promptly.

"WHAT THE FRICK HAVE YA DONE KID?"

_No, no, no, NO, _Ms. Dubose moaned internally. Why were these patients so difficult? Well, technically she knew the intellectual reason behind it- the diagnosis, the complexes, but they were so _persistent, _so…

"Tee-hee," Kaitou giggled, perched precariously on top of a couch.

"Your hair…" Conan tittered, indicating the strands of hair which were now soaked a rather vivid tint of _pink_.

_Pink, _Heiji realised, horrified.

Haibara commented nonchalantly: "Actually, the colour matches your palette quite well."

Conan snickered: "Exactly."

The perpetrator explained: "You landed on my hair dyeing…"

"MA HAIR!" Heiji tugged at his hair frantically, which was followed by an even more agitated, "If Kazuha finds out about dis, I'm dead."

"Huh?" the joker tilted his head innocuously.

"SHE'LL DINK I'M GAY!" Heiji now possessed a genuinely panicked expression, "dis is terrible. Terrible!"

Hakuba tried to reason: "I don't think homosexuality can be gauged solely on the fact that your hair differs in colour…"

"Ha!" Conan narrowed his eyes at the European detective, now bearing a frightening expression for a seven year old, "you have _not _met those females."

"_Dose _females…" Heiji shuddered. "Imagine the links she'll make. With me…"

The little boy now gaped in sudden realisation: "and me!" But his terror was then replaced by vague amusement, a chuckle escaping his lips: "Hehe, they won't let you get within a meter from me anymore."

The Osakan grabbed the boy by his shoulders, pleading: "No Kudo! Don't ya care bout' our bromance!?"

Conan's chirped maliciously: "Ran, he's scaring me. Talking about romance!"

"NO, KUDO! DON'T LEAVE ME!" Heiji beseeched him, pinning him to the couch.

"Ah, what are you doing, nii-san?" he flailed about, trying to escape the other's grip.

Ms. Dubose gaped, finally comprehending their charade. "I don't think you should deceive your guardian," she finally uttered, freezing them in motion, "if you really are homosexual, it's alright always better to inform them earlier. I'm sure they'll be completely understanding…"

_Smack. _Puzzled, the therapist stared blankly at the two boys, red hand marks on their foreheads: they had facepalmed violently, obviously irritated by her statement. _Are their parents that unyielding? _Ms. Dubose wondered.

"The level of daftness…" Haibara shook her head.

"…is outstanding." Conan completed, exasperated.

The therapist's gaze remained flat and questioning. _Hmm?_

"I have to wash this off. Coming?" the dark-skinned boy gestured towards the smears of pink dye on his red imprint as he addressed his young companion.

The little boy shrugged: "Sure."

They paced out of the room, hands placed in their pockets, a disbelieving smirk plastered on their faces. How she had become a therapist, they did not know. She was obviously incapable of the most basic level of analysis.

"You know, Hattori," Conan looked up at the other detective sincerely; "I wouldn't do that to you."

Heiji stopped. Smiling back, he sniffed, blinking tears away: "I knew that all al-"

"You'd be rather ugly as a corpse," Conan added and the Osakan's sentimentality became focused on a whole other matter.

* * *

"Game number two," the therapist announced, "is called 'collective powerlessness."

Hakuba, Kaitou, and Haibara all held bandanas in their hands. The couches had been shoved out of the way, and the desk pushed up against the wall so as to leave enough space for staggering occupants.

"Due to our numbers at the moment," she inspected her watch momentarily, calculating the minutes the two detectives had spent in the washroom, "we will play a slight variation of the game. Here's how it works: I will call out one of your three numbers. When you hear your number, you scream for help. The others will find you, and when they do, you let yourself fall back for them to catch you."

She smiled her plastic smile: "Alright?"

Hakuba acquiesced: "Very well."

* * *

Their sneakers clicked against the hallway floor. Suddenly, a wail broke out, slicing through the air stridently. _Female, _Conan acknowledged immediately, _probably a crime. _His eyes narrowed as he searched the array of doors lining the walls for the source of the sound. _It is farther, _he realised.

"Seems that we find murders even here," Heiji commented nonchalantly.

Conan did not spare a moment to answer as he darted through the halls, teeth gritting together, hoping, pleading that the victim was still alive. That he could save them. That…

_Oh no. _

"Room 157," Heiji enunciated, staring, _gawking _at the door before him. The door to their room.

"Haibara!" Conan barked, now recognising the timber and pitch of the voice, "Haibara, open!"

His small hand clutched the doorknob, jerking it sideways where it should have rolled effortlessly.

The dark-skinned detective pushed him aside lightly: "I got it." Rolling up his sleeves, he brought his right arm across his left shoulder and charged. Bearing into the door, he felt the cringes wail; they were weakening. Again and again, he slammed into the door, wrathful and desperate. He didn't care how the others called him hot-headed, spontaneous; right now, all that mattered was saving the potential victim. With a last, furious heave, the oak surface finally gave way beneath him.

No, someone had… opened it?

"Sorry for locking it," Ms. Dubose waved them an apologetic smile, "we were playing a game and didn't want anyone else to enter."

She then added: "Your knocks are powerful… but please, these doors are very hard to reinstall. Be considerate."

Dazedly, they peered into the room where Haibara had fallen into the arms of Kaitou, both still blindfolded. "That's one realistic cry you have there," the thief muttered, "Even the Tanteis were attracted."

Haibara replied coldly: "Matter of habit, I suppose."

"Ya…" Conan appeared sheepish, "matter of habit."

* * *

**PS: The game at the end is real. X3 **

**What did you think? Was it... actually funny?**


	6. Ms Dubose's new job

It seems the last chapter was rather controversial. Some liked it a lot, some not so much; I think it's because I was using a different kind of humour than usual XP

**Thank you so much to Phantom Player, JuuRokuChan016, rana2001, CasperxDaisyxRa, Meow-chan-15, Airka Yumeko, hai-edogawa, ILoveFanfiction-AnimeAdik, mamatria, Yuu3, krikanalo, Fluehatraya, and AnimeFANforeverMORE for reviewing.**

I started writing the couple's therapy chapter, but it seems incoherent and dull ;_; I'll try to fix it, but in the meantime, here's a little filler to appease you all:

* * *

Ms. Dubose had been assigned to Beika Prison, ward 22 after the hypnosis session. She had woken up one day, dazed and enclosed within four very blank, whitewashed walls. As the sane person she was, she had quickly deduced that this building was an asylum and that she was believed to have gone mad.

After regaining her composure, a flustered Ms. Dubose proved to them that she was in a perfectly un-psychotic state and had been released within weeks.

Now, when I mentioned that she had been assigned to a prison ward, I meant as a capable therapist in charge of providing her services to the countless first-degree murderers inhabiting the ward. Today, Ms. Dubose settled herself in front of the glass pane. It sliced the room in two, separating the criminal from her and giving her some sense of relief. She was not used to dealing with such people. Since she was a little girl, she had always feared and despised murderers or any kind of cold-blooded killer.

Here, she would have to maintain a tight rein on her impulses.

The paper fastened onto her board clearly noted the ways in which he had killed his victim- as well as his motivation- yet had failed to note his behaviour during his stay at the prison. The therapist sighed. She would have to find out the man's disposition himself.

"Hsieh Goro?"

"Yes ma'm," he grumbled almost inaudibly.

"Now, why do you think you are here?" she addressed him politely, with any disgust she felt locked deep underneath layers of grace and civility.

The other stared: "Why… am I here?"

"Yes," she gazed at him expectantly, "well?"

He peered through the glass with the most dumbfounded expression on his face. "Well… I murdered my father, I guess. Is that what you ask every person who comes here?"

"Of course not," she lied stoically, "and why did you do what you did?"

The other's expression turned sour, his whole face crinkled in a villainous grimace: "That fool didn't even want to help his own son out. He disowned me completely." Hsien spat these words out, spiked with venom. _Hmm, _Ms. Dubose pursed her lips, noting his apparent ire towards his father.

"How do you feel about your motivation?" The therapist etched a few words onto her clipboard, still eyeing him out of the corner of her eyes.

The other stopped before narrowing his eyes with irritation: "Can you do anything else than ask questions?"

"Sorry?"

Nothing could stop the man's head from coming in direct contact with the glass. This behaviour was labelled as self-harm by Ms. Dubose and she set out to treat it immediately.

"Is there anyone you are particularly angry with?" She posed the tip of the pen delicately onto her clipboard.

Muffled by the glass, he drawled: "Hehe. Ya, the kid who got me in here in the first place." _Kid? _Somehow, this struck a chord within her. Ah yes. There had been many _kids _at her previous workplace. A thief and two children, all three of them driving her insane. "He was a little kid, in elementary school I think. Black hair, huge glasses, and a red bow." This sounded uncannily, _uncomfortably _familiar now.

"And that bow… it, it can change voices! I know you may not believe me, but," the criminal shakes his head, an ironic smile adorning his lips, "that kid is a genius. The detective he is with is an idiot, a real fluke. But _him. He _was able to point out evidence, find clues…" Ms. Dubose's eyes widened with every piece of information uttered. "…he basically found me out all by himself."

"And when I was about to erase the evidence, that's when his true colors came out. I mean with everyone else, he's like a perfectly regular kid, with the police all he does is convince them he's _normal_. But he's not. When he spoke, it was _freaky _man. I mean, his glasses just shone, and his voice dropped an octave. It was like he was just acting like a kid to trick them, as if he was an adult in a child's body."

"After he revealed everything there was to say, I just stood there, completely stunned. And I asked him, obviously, who he was. He just answered…"

"Conan Edogawa, a detective," Ms. Dubose completed, astonished. Her pen slipped from between her grasp, rolling onto the floor metallically.

"How… how did you know?" Hsien inquired, jaw slack as he regarded her with unguarded suspicion. The therapist recovered quickly, reaching over to pick up her favourite writing utensil.

Her voice was sugar saturated as she beamed at him: "Nothing. Your session is over, Mr. Hsien."

"Oh… ok then."

Hsien Goro would leave, marvelling at the fact that the sentence she had pronounced did not include a questioning lilt as she uttered it. And Ms. Dubose would remain, a hand clasped over her mouth as her face is drawn into a weary, thoughtful frown.

_Who is this boy?_

_Conan Edogawa, _he would smirk.

"Impossible."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, she would realise that every single criminal in the ward had been incriminated by proof Conan Edogawa had presented against them. Men and women committing acts of robbery or kidnappings, all failing because of a seven-year old child. A genius. She was awed that no one had noticed this yet. That no one had realised the potential this kid had. They were all deceived by the layer of childishness he put up- that misleading façade.

She had to tell them.

* * *

The head of the police department received a letter the next day:

_Sir, _

_I am a therapist at Ward 21 in Beika Prison and it has become clear to me now, that none of the prisoners I am in charge of have been brought to justice by the police. They have all admitted to being ensnared by a particular boy named Conan Edogawa, bearing intelligence well beyond his seven years. _

_I advise that you pay special attention to this individual as he may become a valuable asset to you in the future. _

_Please do consider,_

_Ms. Dubose._

The chief brought out pen and paper, scribbling a curt message. It was not addressed to Ms. Dubose, oh no. The head of "Hellingly Asylum" wouldn't find his mailbox empty the next day.

Sadly, the asylum's walls would start to become a very familiar sight.

* * *

The reason I took so long was the writing of a new chapter story I've been planning for some time: Metamorphosis.

The next update will also take some time due to school starting after tomorrow :P.


End file.
